


The Bath

by kinksock22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 17:44:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5937208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinksock22/pseuds/kinksock22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for this prompt on the kink meme: <i>Do whatever you would like with this picture! Please and thank you!</i></p>
<p>
  <i>https://40.media.tumblr.com/2ceead8217e7f46138eae2812502b17d/tumblr_nfvo2dvR7K1rccedko1_540.jpg</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bath

Sam blinks owlishly when Dean leads him into the bathroom, turns to look at his brother with one eyebrow raised. Dean looks uncharacteristically shy, gaze not quite meeting Sam’s, a light, barely-there flush across his cheeks, as he rubs at the back of his neck and shrugs one shoulder. Sam blinks and shakes his head slightly, turning back to look at the room, see if he can figure out what he’s supposed to be looking at since Dean seems to somehow have lost his ability to speak.  
  
The room isn’t much, an old-fashioned bathroom that fits in perfectly with the Victorian mansion that they’ve just recently rid of a restless spirit – a simple hunt that Dad sent them on together while he takes care of a black dog a few towns over. The wallpaper is shades of green that kind of remind him of Dean’s eyes in certain lights and there’s a huge, old-fashioned claw-foot bathtub dominating the center of the wooden floor. There are a few other odds and ends that he notices but he still doesn’t get the damn point, why Dean had drug them back here after they’d checked out of their motel and then – literally – drug him up the stairs, oddly quiet.  
  
Sam chews on the inside of his bottom lip and turns his attention back to Dean. It’s the beginning of summer – Sam just turned eighteen a few months ago – and Dean’s hair is lighter than usual since they’ve been out on the road almost consistently since Sam graduated, mostly working jobs Dad sends them on on their own but they’ve done a lot of just hanging out too, actually stopping to take the time to sight-see, acting like normal people for a change. Sam fucking _loves_ it. Granted his acceptance to Stanford – and the fact that he hasn’t told Dean yet – is still a huge weight on his chest, keeping it a secret from the one person that he wants to share it with most nearly killing him, but without Dad around, things aren’t nearly as tense and he and Dean are free – mostly – to do what they want.  
  
Sam lets go of his lip and grabs Dean’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Dean rolls his eyes – that makes Sam feel a little better, at least _that_ reaction is all Dean – but doesn’t pull away or call Sam a girl – which _doesn’t_ make him feel better, not at all; sure they’re alone and they’ve been together for years but Dean still doesn’t do the whole touchy-feely, coupley stuff that Sam sometimes craves.  
  
“I don’t get it,” Sam says softly, confused. “What’m I lookin’ at?”  
  
Dean huffs and rolls his eyes again – like Sam’s supposed to just _get it_ , like he’s supposed to be some mind reader. Yeah, he knows Dean better than anyone but he’s never seen Dean like this. And there’s nothing glaringly obvious around the room to help him out.  
  
Dean licks his lips and uses the hold Sam has on his hand to pull Sam closer. Sam goes easily, unable to resist smiling when Dean brushes a kiss to his lips. “You’ll get it,” Dean murmurs into the kiss. He pulls away, flush deeper across his cheeks, enough to make his freckles stand out and a slightly strained smile twitches across his lips. “Can you, uh… Can you run back downstairs, out to the car?”  
  
“Uh, okay,” Sam frowns, brow furrowed. “Why?”  
  
“Just. Please, Sammy?” Dean asks softly. “Gimme like, five minutes, then come back up?”  
  
Sam eyes his brother warily for a second then shrugs, huffing out a sigh. “Okay, whatever, Dean.”  
  
Dean’s smile is more real but small and he kisses Sam again before Sam turns from the room and heads back down the stairs. He leans against the side of the Impala, looking around the overgrown land the house sits on, looks at the house itself, tries to picture him and Dean living somewhere like this. It’s something he’s always done, tried to imagine them in a normal house, with a normal life. It’s not something he’s ever been able to picture but it’s even more ridiculous in this case. Sam rolls his eyes to himself and shakes his head, snorting out a laugh.  
  
After giving Dean his five minutes, Sam heads back inside and jogs up the stairs. He stumbles to a stop inside the small bathroom, eyes wide, unsure if what he’s seeing is even real. Maybe he fell down and hit his head and this is a really strange coma-dream.  
  
Dean is kneeling at the edge of the bathtub – which is full of steaming water and white, fluffy bubbles – naked and there’s an old, porcelain pitcher next to his knee. Dean takes a deep breath and looks up at him, his eyes full of uncertainty and what Sam thinks is shame or embarrassment. But there’s a plea in those emerald depths, one that Sam’s never seen before.  
  
“Get in?” Dean whispers, tone rough and so low Sam barely hears him.  
  
“Dean… what’s…”  
  
“Please, Sam,” Dean cuts him off, nearly begging. “Just. Don’t, okay? Trust me?”  
  
Sam wants to roll his eyes. He trusts Dean with his life. “Of course,” he answers quickly, evenly. “You know I do.”  
  
“Then just… Trust me,” he states.  
  
Sam nods, still not really sure what the fuck. But he does trust Dean and his brother so rarely ever asks for _anything_ , especially from him. Sam slowly strips off his clothes, leaving them in a pile next to Dean’s. His brother holds out one hand, helping him step into the tub and Sam gasps as he sinks into the almost too-warm water. Dean hadn’t filled it completely, obviously not wanting to risk it overflowing when Sam got in, so he turns on the taps and the only sound is the rushing of water and the groaning of old pipes.  
  
Dean gently grabs Sam and urges him onto his belly, urges him closer to the edge. He grabs the pitcher and fills it, then slowly pours the water over Sam’s back. He keeps refilling and pouring the water over Sam, his back, his shoulders, his ass. He’s lightly cupping Sam’s jaw with his other hand, looking down at Sam, those same heartbreaking insecurities in his eyes but also all the love in his huge heart. Sam leans his cheek against the side of the tub and looks up at him, watches him back, unable to tear his gaze away.  
  
Sam hasn’t had a _bath_ since he was still in single digits and thought it was hilarious to squirm and wiggle and splash his big brother, giggling happily when Dean would huff and inevitably jump in with him. This of course is nothing like that but the love between them, while skewed from their more-than-brotherly relationship, is still the same, still bigger than both of them.  
  
Dean’s humming softly, a tone that Sam doesn’t recognize but it’s not his usual cock-rock preferences, of that Sam’s sure. His smile is soft, his eyes liquid, and Sam can’t stop himself from smiling back, relaxing into the water and his brother’s familiar presence and love. He’s glad when he sees Dean relax as well, the insecurity and embarrassment fading as he realizes that Sam isn’t going to tease him for this. Like Sam would ever. This is oddly intimate and undoubtedly romantic and not something that he would ever expect from his brother. Dean loves him, in every sense of the word, of that Sam’s sure, and he’s always taken care of Sam but Dean isn’t soft and cuddly by any means and his gestures of love are usually wildly different. Sam doesn’t know what’s gotten into Dean but he doesn’t really freaking care. And he sure as shit isn’t going to question it.  
  
Once the tub is full, Dean sets the pitcher aside and turns off the taps. He slides his now free hand down Sam’s back, over the curve of his ass, down his thigh, then back up, fingers light, gentle. The tub is big enough for Sam’s long legs – a true shock – so he stretches out and moans softly, his eyes fluttering closed. Dean lets go of his face and uses that hand to rub at him as well, and Sam gets lost in the sensation, a slow burn of arousal curling low in his stomach.  
  
He feels Dean’s lips brush against his cheek, the side of his lips and he turns into it. Pushing up slightly out of the water, Sam tips his head to the side, lets Dean slowly deepen the kiss, their tongues sliding together wet and warm and familiar. Dean’s hands settle at the small of his back, thumbs lightly rubbing up and down the wet skin on either side of his spine, the tips of his pinkies brushing the swell of Sam’s ass. He wants so much, wants to pull Dean into the tub with him or get out and push him onto the aged wooden floor, wants to stay right where he is and kiss Dean until nothing else exists. He’s holding himself up out of the water just enough to reach Dean, his elbows and forearms braced on the smooth bottom of the tub. As much as he wants to touch Dean back, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t know what Dean has planned next, if anything, so he just stays where his brother put him.  
  
He sighs into the kiss, cock twitching where it’s trapped against the bottom of the tub when Dean bites down on his bottom lip before pulling away. Sam blinks his eyes open slowly and looks up at Dean, licks his lips. Dean smiles at him and leans forward more, kisses his way down the side of Sam’s jaw, his neck, back to nip at the sensitive skin beneath his ear.  
  
“Think there’s room in there for both’a us?” Dean murmurs, the first thing either of them have said in a while. The warmth of his breath makes Sam shiver, even with the warmth of the water, the low rumble of it turning his blood molten in his veins.  
  
He turns his head and kisses at the side of Dean’s face until Dean turns into him and they’re kissing for real again, still slow and deep. “We’ll make it work,” Sam finally answers after a few long minutes, the words smeared against his brother’s lips.  
  
Dean smiles against his lips and nudges their foreheads together, lips still close enough to be considered kissing. “Make room,” he instructs softly.  
  
Sam reluctantly pulls away and sits up, looks expectantly up at Dean, not sure how he wants to do this. Dean licks his lips and steps over the lip of the tub and slides down into the water. He reaches out and grabs Sam by the hips, tugging carefully but insistently until Sam crawls into his lap. His legs are squeezed between Dean and the sides of the tub but it’s not too bad. Sam leans against Dean’s chest and tightens his knees around Dean’s hips anyway. Dean slides his arms around Sam’s waist, holds him close as possible, their cocks trapped between their stomachs. Sam tucks his face against Dean’s neck, mouthing softly, wetly, at his pulse, and Dean hums under his breath, his hands sliding down Sam’s back, over the curve of his ass.  
  
Sam ruts forward, can’t stop the motion of his hips. Dean hums again and grips Sam’s hip with one hand, urging him to move but keeping the pace slow, easy. Water still sloshes up the sides of the tub, some spilling over the lip but Sam barely notices. Even though they’re on their own a lot, especially lately, they rarely take the time for slow and easy. And Sam’s okay with that. He loves the way things are with them, biting kisses and bruising touches and fucking wild and hard, like wild things. But on the rare few occasions that it has happened he can admit that he loves it just as much – he’ll never admit that, no matter what Dean says, he really isn’t a girl.  
  
Once Dean has set in the pace he wants, he lets go of Sam’s hip, his hand sliding into Sam’s hair, fingers curling into a loose fist. He lets Sam stay where he’s at, face still tucked against his neck, but he tugs his head a bit to the side, dips down and mouths at the curve of Sam’s shoulder. Sam moans softly and curls up more against Dean’s chest, a little frustrated that he can’t get the friction he’s used to – that he needs – with the resistance of the water.  
  
The hand Dean has on his ass moves just a bit, fingers teasing at the cleft and Sam squirms slightly, nips at the hinge of Dean’s jaw. Dean wiggles his fingers in deeper, circles around the rim of his hole. Sam wants to tilt his hips back and sink down on Dean’s thick fingers but they’ve discovered through many a shared shower that water isn’t really the greatest of lube. The pressure is good though so Sam just keeps thrusting against Dean, their cocks bumping together. But it’s just not enough.  
  
Sam grunts in frustration and shoves a hand down between them, curling his fingers around both of them, squeezing their stiff lengths together. Dean moans softly and kisses up Sam’s neck to his jaw, nudging at his cheek. Sam turns his head and their lips slide together, the kiss instantly deepening. Dean’s arm tightens around his waist, his fingers pressing a little harder against his rim, just barely dipping inside. Sam tightens his hold on them in response, the movement sloppy and erratic but in the end it doesn’t take much, or long, for them both to come, moaning into the slide of their lips and tongues.  
  
Sam pulls his arm out from between them and wraps both arms around Dean, head resting on his shoulder. Dean slides his arms around Sam’s waist and hugs him close as he relaxes against the back curve of the tub. The water is starting to get cold and the bubbles are all but gone and Sam can see the cloudy mix of their release floating around them. He wrinkles his nose and sighs, pulling away enough to press a kiss to Dean’s lips before pulling away enough to stand up. Dean is right behind him, hand on his hip to steady him as he steps out even though he doesn’t need it. They dry off and dress in silence and Dean once again doesn’t complain when Sam grabs his hand and curls their fingers together as they head back outside. Dean smiles fondly when Sam curls up against his side in the car, one hand curling in the back of his hair as he drives them back to their motel.  
  
Sam still doesn’t know what’s up with Dean, why any of that happened, but he isn’t going to ask and sure as hell isn’t going to complain. He doesn’t have a lot of time left and if Dean wants to be sweet – even though it’s weird getting used to – he’ll take whatever he can get. Because he knows he’s going to tear it – them – apart soon enough.


End file.
